The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover / Chapter 11: Days to Weeks
The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover

The Chief’s Wife Stole My Lover

Author: Christopher Martin


Chapter 11: Days to Weeks

7

All those gist, plus chief wife words, make me worry for days.

My head dey pain me like e wan break.

Auwalu hear am, bring me zobo tea.

We never see for one whole month. Days turn to weeks, and my eye dey count every market day wey I no see am.

Even though I don confirm say nothing dey between Auwalu and chief wife and my family dey safe,

when I first see Auwalu, na suspicion full my mind, not happiness.

All him care dey like knife for my head.

If chief wife vex, that knife go fall,

my family blood go make their love strong.

As e see my body language, e just smile small.

“This servant come do local medicine for you.”

Auwalu get one kind energy, sharp and wise.

Anywhere e go, people dey help am.

Even if na compound doctor teach am medicine for back, I no surprise.

“Head wahala dey affect body. No use your health quarrel with me. E no worth am,” e talk.

E usual caring voice make me confuse.

Sun dey set half-way.

Auwalu, wear green, hold needle with calm.

Him brow and eye soft.

Small black hair touch my neck,

bring small itch.

E really dey try for me.

But, wetin be the point?

I hiss.

With plenty mixed feelings, my hand climb him black hair, touch him high nose bridge.

Dem say if nose high, that place dey big too.

Na small play.

Auwalu begin breathe fast, eye red.

As I see as e dey blush, I confuse small.

Dem say na chief wife be him real love.

But the person for my front still be the same small steward wey like me well.

Wetin if all those talk na just wahala?

But before I fit think well, gist begin fly again:

As Auwalu dey talk, e voice calm like cool breeze after heavy rain. E try use small medicine take clear my headache. I see the way e wear green, e hand steady as e hold the needle, like person wey dey used to care for others. The small touch of e hair for my neck make my skin tingle, remind me of the early days. I try play small with am—touch e nose, joke about old woman talk. E laugh, but I see the red for e eye. The love still dey, but the wahala for compound too much. My heart dey argue with my head, dey wonder if na only fear dey push me away.

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